


Past / Present / Future

by SweetestHoney



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: I actually have an outline, Irondad, M/M, Slow Burn, because holy crap the timelines are already so much to keep track of, spiderson, that I want to try to stick to, this is (hopefully) going to end up really long, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: A nonlinear love story about how Quentin Beck fell in love with Peter Parker twice.OR: Quentin Beck, Mysterio, was actually from another universe where he was married to Peter Parker, who died saving the world from the elementals. Quentin is now in the world of FFH, except every time he looks at Peter, he sees his husband. This is their story.





	1. Logos - Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so ohmigawd I am so excited for this story! I have been outlining and writing for like two days and I'm just like, really *really* excited to see what y'all think. It's going to take place over two different timelines/universes and show Quentin's story - how he fell for Peter once, how he lost him, and how he found something new with another Peter Parker. I really hope it's not too confusing! Def let me know if anything doesn't make sense, I can try to make it more clear. Anyway, enjoy! :D
> 
> For clarity - there are two distinct universes/timelines happening concurrently, and I will mark which is which at the beginning of the chapters. At least, that's the goal. I know Marvel uses numbers, but since this isn't either of the universes that were talked about in FFH, I gave them names instead because it's easier on my brain. I hope that's not too confusing. The two parallel timelines are Logos and Dis, and if anyone (without google) can tell me what the names are from they earn all the internet cookies!

**Logos**

* * *

Quentin’s first impression of Peter was of a drunken college kid with too much to lose. It was the annual Stark Holiday Gala and as head of engineering, his presence was required. He needed to schmooze, meeting all of the important higher ups and making sure they kept his department funded for the next year. Peter, who he knew by sight if not personally, was Tony Stark’s unofficial heir, and attended the parties since he was in high school. Now he was in college, and he’d gotten quite the reputation for being somewhat of an airhead. 

It was common knowledge that Tony was fond of the kid, hell, he donated more to MIT to get Peter a spot there than most kids paid for all four years of college combined. But Quentin never gave much thought as to _ why _ Tony had such a soft spot for the kid before. When he literally bumped into Peter in one of the hallways near the bathrooms, Quentin reached out to steady him automatically, one hand landing clumsily on Peter’s shoulder. Peter gave him a grin and didn’t move his hand, standing comfortably too close to Quentin for social niceties. 

“Hey, I know you, right?” Peter’s words were slightly slurred and he seemed to have trouble focusing on Beck’s face. Quentin leaned back, taking in Peter’s expression, and rolled his eyes. He removed his hand from Peter’s shoulder, drawing back to create some space between their bodies. 

“I don’t know about that, but I know _ you _. You’re gonna be in a lot of trouble if Tony sees that you’re drunk, Peter.” Tony’s overprotectiveness over Peter Parker was legendary, and Quentin knew being caught with a tipsy Peter would be the end of his career with Stark Industries, no matter the reality of the situation. 

Quentin looked around, making sure nobody was immediately around them, and then turned back to Peter. “C’mon, let’s get you some water, how’s that sound, Pete?” Peter let him steer them towards a couple of chairs out of the way, and Quentin located him a glass of water from a nearby attendant. “Now you sit for a minute and drink that, okay? Slowly, I don’t want you making yourself sick.” 

Peter nodded at him and took the glass, sipping at it intermittently. He looked up at Quentin, who kept darting glances towards the other end of the hallway where the party was still going. 

“What’re you looking for?” Peter’s voice was shaky, and Quentin glanced back down at the boy, no, _ man _ in front of him. 

“I don’t want your – uh, your _ Tony _ finding me here with you in your current state. He’s known to be a little crazy when it comes to you.” Peter blinked sleepily at him. 

“Huh? Oh, you mean drunk? Naaahhh.” Peter drew out the denial, waving his hand as he did so. “He’s the one that got me the booze!” Quentin blinked, shocked. Peter continued on without noticing. “Well, I don’t think he meant that I should do it here, you know? But yeah, I’m _ finally _ legal, so he _ had _ to get it for me! Thor’s secret recipe, all the way from – uh – from ass-guard. Yeah. He was such a – he’s a _ stick in the mud _ most of the time, wouldn’t let me get drunk at _ all _ before I turned twenty one.” 

One of his hands landed on Quentin’s arm, and it would have seemed accidental except for the glint in Peter’s eyes that said he knew exactly what he was doing. “And anyway, it’s not like he wasn’t doing anything worse at my age, hell, he had slept with half of MIT by this point!” Peter’s voice trailed off into a grumble, and he huffed. “Just because he wants me to be better doesn’t mean I don’t want to get drunk and sleep with people too.” 

Quentin hid a smile behind his hand, trying not to find Peter’s pout as adorable as he did. The boy was drunk, but even in his current state he had such an awkward charm about him that it was nearly impossible not to find him endearing. He didn’t dislodge Peter’s hand from his arm, and instead stepped slightly closer, crowding Peter back into his chair. Peter moved happily, giving him a warm smile. 

“And he kept you from all booze ever, did he? I don’t think even the great and powerful Tony Stark has _ that _ much power.” Quentin smiled indulgently at Peter, finally realizing just how the kid charmed Tony right off the bat. 

Peter shook his head, and set the water glass down on the floor. “Nah, he didn’t have to do anything, ‘s all my metabolism, I can’t get drunk. Well, not with the normal stuff, I’ve tried.” He smiled suddenly, and it was nearly blinding. “Hey, you want to see my favorite party trick? I can chug a handle of anything in fifteen minutes and then do differential equations!” 

Seeing that in action might actually be worth getting fired, but Quentin just put a hand on Peter’s and stopped him from leaping out of the chair. “Woah, woah, I believe you, okay? Since you’re already drunk, let’s leave that for another day, huh?” Peter let himself be guided back down. 

“Another day, huh? You planning on seeing me again?” Quentin’s eyebrows rose of their own accord, and he snorted. “What?” Peter pouted at him. 

“You say that like this is – like we’re _ seeing _ each other now. Like this is something.” Peter’s eyes narrowed, and he stared resolutely at Quentin. 

“Isn’t it? You, me, a dark hallway…” Quentin wasn’t expecting the boy to move as fast as he did, it was almost instantaneous. Peter was up and out of the chair, walking Quentin back towards the wall of the hallway in one second flat. He pushed at Quentin’s shoulders as he went, and Quentin let himself be moved, amazed by the strength in Peter’s small frame. 

When his back hit the wall he stopped but Peter didn’t. Peter kept moving until he was pressed against Quentin’s chest, looking up at him with big brown doe eyes. Neither of them said anything for long moments, and then they were kissing, all teeth and tongue and sloppy teenaged makeout session. 

Peter’s hands wrapped around Quentin’s back and he moaned into the kiss, letting Quentin take the lead. Quentin, once he got past the shock that Peter had really kissed him, mentally shrugged at the possibility of getting fired for this. _ It’s already done, and in for a penny, in for a pound _. His hands found Peter’s shoulders and Peter tensed, clearly expecting Quentin to push him away and break the kiss. 

Instead, Quentin shoved, pushing him away slightly so he could push himself off the wall and turn them. Once Peter’s back was against the wall Quentin stepped closer again, pushing one knee between Peter’s legs and pinning him in place. Peter whined low in his throat, breaking off the kiss to tip his head back and pant. 

“Oh fuck, that’s – don’t stop, please, I need-” Quentin knew exactly what Peter needed and he didn’t stop, instead grinding against Peter’s dick harder, giving him the friction he wanted. His hands skirted the hem of Peter’s shirt and he ran his fingers along the strip of skin there, teasing. 

Quentin paused when he realized it wasn’t skin he felt, and instead it seemed like Peter was wearing an ultra-thin bodysuit under his shirt and tie. _ Why would anyone want to wear more layers under a suit? _ His fingers skimmed the material, and he broke the kiss with Peter. 

“Wha-What are you doing?” Peter’s voice was confused, but he just looked bleary, not like he was trying to hide something. “Hey come on, touch me.” Quentin smirked at him, leaning in to press their lips together once more, which served to distract Peter thoroughly. He ran his hands over Peter’s torso, exploring the bodysuit the boy had on under his shirt and earning some choice moans in response. 

Peter either didn’t feel the difference between being touched on his skin and through the suit, or he was so used to wearing it that he’d forgotten it was there. Both of those options were ones that left more questions unanswered than not, and Quentin wasn’t someone who ignored warning signs like that. Sighing, he broke the kiss and pulled a little away, although not far enough that he couldn’t press his forehead to Peter’s. Peter whined at the lack of action, and when Quentin withdrew his hands from the boy’s shirt, he repeated the sound. 

“W-What – why are you stopping? I don’t want you to stop.” Peter sounded so crestfallen that Quentin had to fight the urge to give in to his baser urges and kiss him senseless once more. Instead, he took his hands off Peter altogether and stepped back, wiping at the corner of his mouth discreetly with his palm. 

“Peter, you’re drunk.” Peter pouted, but Quentin didn’t let him get a word in edgewise, talking over him when he opened his mouth. “And, and – you told me yourself that you haven’t been drunk that much, so you’re not aware of how it affects you as much as someone who had more experience.” Peter gave him a flirty smile, and tried to step closer. 

“Oh, I can assure you that I’ve got _ plenty _ of experience.” Quentin stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, and Peter dropped the look, rolling his eyes. 

“I’m being serious here, and you’re being very immature.” Peter winced at that – clearly the description was one he didn’t like. “And you’re Tony Stark’s – well, you’re as close to kids as he’s likely going to get, and he’s my boss. I can’t – we can’t be doing this.” Quentin finished less strongly than he wanted, unhappy at the prospect of never being able to have the beautiful boy in front of him. 

Peter heard the hesitation in his voice, and decided to press his luck, stepping closer but not touching. “I’m not that drunk, and I’ll kill him if he tries to do anything to you. I didn’t – I haven’t gotten the chance to be drunk that much, but I’m not a stranger to mind-altering substances or anything, and I know what I want. I want _ you_.” His plea was an aphrodisiac to Quentin, hearing the boy tell him how much he wanted him, but he forced himself to take another step back. 

“You’re not drunk?” Peter shook his head. “You didn’t notice when I was touching you that I didn’t have my hands on your skin?” Peter looked quizzically at him, clearly confused, and grabbed at the hem of his shirt with one hand, clearly meaning to pull it up and demonstrate the lack of anything underneath it. When his fingertips skirted his stomach, however, his eyes went wide and he inhaled sharply. 

“Oh shit, I - that is – shit, shit, he’s going to kill me.” Peter’s breath sped up, and Quentin recognized the signs of an impending panic attack. Quickly he put both hands on Peter’s shoulders, walking him back so he was pressed against the wall once more, Quentin kneading at his shoulders with practiced ease. 

“Hey! Hey, Peter, look at me. Just look at me, focus on breathing. It’s okay, whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Nobody is going to kill you.” Peter let himself be moved, and as Quentin talked, he nodded slowly, letting the words wash over him. Quentin kept speaking, murmuring nonsense in a low voice and after a minute, Peter’s breathing slowed again and the fight or flight look in his eyes calmed down, not entirely gone but not as apparent either. 

Once he was confident Peter wouldn’t have a full on panic attack, Quentin paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from here. He was saved, in a manner of speaking, by a shout at the other end of the corridor. 


	2. Logos - Beginning Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm going to be making liberal use of chapter titles to keep everything organized, hopefully that helps. I'm very scattered, ha :)

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing with him?” Tony Stark’s voice was one of the most well known on the planet, and even when he was furious it always threw Quentin for a loop to hear it not from speakers. 

The man himself stormed down the hallway towards them, and Peter turned his head fearfully towards his pseudo-father figure. 

“Tony, wait!” Tony himself came to a stop directly in front of them, and reached out to grab Peter’s wrist while still glaring daggers at Quentin. Peter’s protest did nothing, the man didn’t act like he’d even heard it. He yanked on Peter’s arm, and Peter let himself be pulled out of Quentin’s grip, away from the wall. Tony gathered Peter behind him, and gave him a cursory glance to make sure he wasn’t hurt before rounding on Quentin again. 

“Whoever you are, you’re fired.” Quentin could have protested, but he knew it would be useless. He’d seen others who transgressed against the man’s adopted son before, and it always ended the same way. Tony, when faced with anyone who looked wrong at Peter, tended to have blinders on full and a team of lawyers ready to back up whatever ridiculous accusations came out of his mouth. 

Peter spluttered at Tony’s words, but Tony didn’t even turn to listen to him. “And I want you to know that you’re going to be sued within an _ inch _ of your life, you were – you were _ groping him _ in _ public_, I’m going to make sure you never see the outside of a jail cell again – just because he’s technically not a minor doesn’t mean you can just-” Tony’s angry rant cut off when Peter, whose expression darkened as he listened to the words coming from his mentor’s mouth, finally had enough and slapped a hand over Tony’s mouth, stopping him from speaking. 

Tony turned to glare at Peter, and Peter squared his shoulders and glared right back at him, only made slightly less effective by the fact that he was still a little wobbly on his feet from the booze. When Tony gave him a small nod, indicating him that he’d let Peter speak, Peter released his grip on the man. 

“Tony. He wasn’t – _ groping _ me or whatever, he was – I was having a panic attack, and he was talking me down.” Tony’s expression softened and he reached a hand up to brush the hair out of Peter’s eyes. “He was _ helping_, not doing anything I didn’t want.” Tony harrumphed, and turned back to Quentin, still glaring mulishly at him. 

“Well, still. What’s a guy like him sitting back here with a kid anyway? Why were you having a panic attack?” Tony turned back to Peter, whose expression soured at the reminder. Tony read his face and was clearly ready to go back to yelling at Quentin when Peter threw up his hands to stop him. 

“Wait, Tony, wait!” Tony paused, clearly waiting. Peter shuffled his feet, and looked down, not wanting to speak. After a moment he gathered his courage and started again. “Okay, so we were – I thought he was cute so I kind of jumped him.” Tony whirled on Quentin, raising one hand that Quentin saw with alarm was now covered with a repulsor, but Peter shot forwards, one hand reaching out to push Tony’s up and towards the ceiling, where the shot created a small hole in the molding. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end him right now.” Tony’s voice was soft through his gritted teeth and Peter tightened his grip on the hand with the repulsor. 

“He knows who I am.” Peter’s whispered confession brought twin stares to focus on him, Tony with horror and Quentin’s with confusion. Tony turned back to Quentin, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“How? Have you been following him? Spying? What gives you the right?” Peter grabbed at his hands again, keeping the gauntlet safely pointed away. 

Quentin’s hands went up, and he took a step back, ready to deny any knowledge of whatever it was that they thought he knew. Before he could speak, though, Peter interrupted again. 

“He – I-I didn’t have time to change before the party tonight, so I just put on the suit and tie over everything, since it would be covered. I forgot I had it on, and he – saw.” Quentin _hadn’t_ seen, just felt the fabric of whatever it was stretched tightly over Peter’s muscular frame, but he wasn’t picked as a department head at one of the leading tech companies in the world for his looks alone. He’d started putting the pieces together, and the sheer naked _fear_ he saw on both Peter’s and then Tony’s face when they thought he knew let him know that the secret they were hiding was something _ big_. 

Quentin cleared his throat, and when they both turned to look at him, he smiled at them warmly, palms open and facing the other two men. “Hey, how about this. Let’s move this discussion somewhere less public, and we can talk.” Tony, seemingly just realizing that he was having it out with one of his employees and his adopted son in a hallway off the ballroom where his company holiday party was being held, nodded tightly. 

“Yes. Peter, take him and _ go_. I want both of you in my lab, I have some excuses to make and I’ll be right behind you. We can figure this mess out then.” He shot a glare at both Quentin and Peter, looking between them. “And don’t even _ think _ about doing anything, or so help me, I’ll strangle you both with my bare hands.” Quentin nodded, cowed by a threat from the man that could arguably be called the most powerful superhero in the world. Peter, on the other hand, just looked bored and frustrated with the order, and he huffed at Tony’s threat. 

“Just go, old man, and I’ll see you upstairs.” Peter didn’t wait to see if Tony would respond, taking Quentin’s hand in his and leading him away from the sounds of the party. 

Quentin followed, letting Peter lead, and Tony watched them impassively until they rounded the corner at the end of the hallway. 

Once they were out of sight, Peter’s shoulders fell from their squared position, and he sagged against Quentin. Quentin, surprised at the sudden weight, staggered a little but managed to stay upright, wrapping a hand around Peter’s shoulders to steady him. Peter fit perfectly into his grip, and he left his arm there, liking the feeling. 

When they got to the elevators, the doors slid open and Peter walked straight in, not hitting any buttons. By virtue of their being so close, Beck went with him and when he turned, the doors had already slid closed behind them. The elevator moved smoothly, and when the doors opened again they looked out at a huge room full of tables covered in junk. 

Well, it wasn’t junk, but a good portion of the things on the tables would have looked less out of place at a flea market than they did in a high tech laboratory. Quentin hadn’t ever been to Tony’s private lab before, and he looked around in delight at all of the tech sitting out, waiting to be completed. 

Peter didn’t seem to care about the prototypes, though, and he walked Quentin past all of the table towards the back of the room, where all of the Iron Man suits stood, watching. They made a really impressive display, all standing at attention, and Peter just walked right past them, towards a door on the side of the room. 

When they reached the smallish door, Quentin nearly balked – it looked like the door to a supply closet or storage room. But when Peter pressed his hand to the frame, over a spot where Quentin could see no difference in the paint, a small light blinked orange and then green, and there was a _ click _ that indicated the door was now unlocked. 

Peter turned the knob, and before he pushed the door open, he looked up at Quentin. His eyes held some of the mischievous excitement that Quentin remembered having at that age, and it was contagious. Before Quentin could do something stupid like bend down to kiss him, Peter turned the knob and pushed. 


	3. Logos - Beginning Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I have had quite a day and posting got pushed to the back burner, sorry y'all! Hopefully this tiny tidbit makes up for the lateness :)

His overwhelming curiosity about the room and about whatever Peter’s secret was won out, and Quentin turned from the boy so he could look into the room that clearly held clues about whatever it was. 

The first thing he saw were the couches. Two of them, comfy looking and fairly old, they looked like the best ‘sit down to do homework or work on a crossword’ couches Quentin had ever seen. And judging by the burns and stains, they’d been in use as the workshop couches for quite a while. After the couches, the next thing his eyes landed on was the line of suits against the back wall of the room. 

The lineup of suits was similar to the display in the outer workshop, but where Tony had his suits polished and beautifully maintained, these weren’t. The first one just looked like a combo of a red sweatshirt and blue sweatpants, and the second and third were mostly gone, just scraps of spandex held onto the mannequins with pins, and it wasn’t until the third that he really realized what he was seeing. 

Peter hung on to his arm, squirming nervously, as he watched Quentin’s eyes travel over the suits and take them in. When Quentin turned back to him, Peter’s eyes were wide and he was chewing his lip. 

“Y-You’re Spider-Man.” Quentin’s voice shook, and he tried to think back, wondering how long Peter had been doing it. The superhero appeared years earlier, when Peter would have been – 14, 15? There was no way he could have been doing it at that age, right? Although now that he thought about it, that  _ was _ right around the time Tony took an interest in Peter, and when Iron Man started teaming up with Spider-Man. 

Quentin sat heavily on one of the couches, and it absorbed his weight easily, bouncing easily back to support him. Peter sat next to him, still gripping his hand like he was worried Quentin might drift off without him there to hold on to. 

“Yeah, I’m-I’m Spider-Man.” Peter nodded gently, and lifted the hem of his dress shirt from where he’d hastily tucked it in, showing a patch of the Spider-Man suit that Quentin had come to know well. “I have been since I was fourteen.” Quentin closed his eyes against the information, and let go of Peter’s hand to scrub at his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Peter let his hand go without complaint, and just sat there, watching him carefully. After a few minutes, Peter stood and left the room, but he left the door open and Quentin could hear him doing something in the main workshop. When he came back, Quentin hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, and Peter hovered in the doorway before coming closer. 

He handed Quentin a low glass with something brown in it, and Quentin knocked the drink back without questioning it. He only had a split second to taste what might have been the most expensive whiskey he’d ever had before it was gone, and he whipped his head up to look at Peter. Peter flushed a little and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

“It’s not like Tony drinks anymore, he just leaves the booze there, and I thought it might help.” Knowing that he’s just had a full drink of whiskey from a bottle that likely cost more than his annual salary didn’t help Quentin keep a level head, and he handed the glass back to Peter. Peter put it on the table in front of the couch and set down the bottle as well, which Quentin hadn’t noticed he was carrying until that moment. 

Despite his best intentions, Quentin leaned forward and poured himself another drink, sipping it this time instead of chugging it. The whiskey was almost untouchably smooth, and he raised his eyebrows at Peter as the taste reminded him of something else. 

“You can’t get drunk?” Peter rubbed at the back of his head, and shrugged again. 

“No, although if I drink a handle of something bottom shelf I get hungover for a few hours or until I drink water.” Quentin sat back, taking in the information. Peter hurried to keep talking, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. “I’m pretty much sober now, though, even with Thor’s booze I burn through it really fast. But, yeah, uh, yeah.” He held his hands out, and Quentin looked him over. When he didn’t say anything further, Peter sighed and dropped his hands, looking down. “Shit, sorry if you – I didn’t mean to get you dragged into this, and Tony is, well, he’s a lot and he’ll probably make your life hell so I’m sorry about that too. If–If you don’t want me, or want anything to do with me now that you know, I’d understand.” Quentin’s head whipped up at that, and he looked up at Peter in confusion. 

“You think I don’t – that I  _ wouldn’t _ want you now?” Peter hunched further down on the couch, and Quentin put his hand out, not touching but almost. “Peter, you’re – god, you’re strong and smart and funny and you’ve been keeping this a secret for hell,  _ years _ now. Why would you think I wouldn’t want you?” Peter shrugged, picking at the frayed edges of one of the burnt spots on the couch. 

“I dunno, I’m a freak. Not a mutant like J. Jonah is always going on about, but close enough. I’ve been called worse by people on the street. A-And I didn’t tell you, before I kissed you, I mean.” He gave another one-shouldered shrug. “Just seems unfair that I can’t tell anyone but Tony got to tell  _ everyone _ .” He pouted, clearly the argument had been going on for quite a while before Quentin fell into it by accident, and he grinned at the clearly petulant boy. 

“Well, I don’t think you’re a freak. I think you’re incredible, and if other people want to give you shit for being a hero, I say screw them.” Peter finally looked up at him, a soft smile hesitant on his face, and Quentin’s heart melted at the sight. 

Quentin was only so strong, and when Peter gave him that smile, the clear adoration in his eyes, Quentin had no choice but to lean forward, pressing their lips together once more. The tension between them which had been simmering since the first touch but dissipated somewhat with Tony’s arrival sprung back to full force instantly. 

Peter licked his way into Quentin’s mouth, deepening the kiss, and Quentin groaned, reaching out for him. His hands wrapped around Peter’s waist and he  _ pulled _ , hauling the boy onto his lap. Peter went easily, knees bracketing Quentin’s thighs, and Quentin groaned as he realized that not only was Peter just the right size for him to easily pick up, Peter was  _ super strong _ and he’d  _ let _ Quentin pick him up. 

From his position above Quentin, Peter ground down against him, and they both moaned at the contact through the layers of clothing. Quentin’s hands came up to grip Peter’s ass, kneading, and Peter bucked into his grip, keening softly. 

Both of them were so involved with each other than neither noticed the door open when Tony stepped into the room. His eyes landed on the couple on the couch and he stopped in his tracks, horrified. 

“What in  _ the hell _ do you think you’re doing?” 


	4. Dis - New Beginnings - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned - this chapter does not follow the last one directly. Enjoy!

When Quentin landed, he almost didn’t get up to see where he ended up. It couldn’t be any worse than the hell he’d escaped. 

After spending a few minutes laying on the ground feeling sorry for himself he rolled over, planting his feet in the dust and getting his bearings on the area around him. It was strange enough to see an open field that he had to just sit and stare at it for a few long moments, taking in the sights he’d taken for granted so many times before. Nothing was on fire, nobody was fighting – it was _peaceful_. 

When he stood, he could smell the forest nearby on the breeze, and it smelled like home. He knew it was possible – building a gateway to another dimension was always the goal, after all – but he hadn’t let himself see past it actually working. When he jumped through the portal, at the end, he knew he had to save everyone on whatever parallel world the elementals escaped to but he hadn’t realized that he’d be on another world until he saw it with his own eyes.

Turning so he could scope out the surroundings, he noticed a farmhouse a ways away, and rows of something green and leafy growing behind it. When he focused, he could make out that it seemed to be corn, but he couldn’t be sure without getting closer. A long unpaved driveway led to what looked to be a road which led over a hill and out of sight.

Quentin tested his powers slowly at first, making sure they were all there. When he first got them, he’d wished for a way to make them stop, but after having them in the background 24/7, it would be weirder at this point not to have them. They seemed to be in full working order, so there was nothing in this universe blocking his abilities.

Hovering a few feet off the ground, he ran through a checklist on his suit, ensuring that all systems were functional. While he could fly, he’d found out the hard way that being able to fly and being able to breathe at high altitudes were not the same thing. With Tony’s help he developed the Mysterio suit – it helped him contain his powers and made sure he could fly as high or as fast as he needed to without that pecky problem of the atmosphere being too thin.

His GPS location system was offline, probably due to the fact that the satellites that it was designed to ping from were no longer in orbit, but everything else on the suit was functioning properly. Quentin closed his eyes and breathed in, taking a deep breath before letting it out and taking off.

When he focused on the core of energy at the center of his person, he felt it pulsing with his heartbeat. Tapping into it, he directed a force downward, propelling himself into the sky. When he was a few hundred feet up, he found the road he’d seen earlier and followed it, tracing the curves of the land until it reached a small town.

Quentin didn’t even bother to stop at the town, just kept following the roads north until he reached a highway, and from there he was able to figure out that he was in a country that spoke English, and that it looked like he was, more specifically, in Kansas.

His GPS location services were off, but his suit did have some limited AI functionality, and some built in maps that he could access without the use of the location services. He pulled up a map of the US and looked at it briefly to determine the best course of action. With some rough calculations, he figured out that if he flew East by Northeast, he would eventually reach New York City.

Quentin wasn’t sure what he even _could_ do in this universe, but he knew if he was going to do anything, it would be easier to figure out what it was in his city.

After a few hours of flying, the land below him began changing, moving from vast tracks of open farmland to suburbs to urban sprawl, and he knew he was getting close. When he saw the skyline of the city finally edge over the horizon, something in his heart unclenched and he realized he’d been worrying over whether he’d ever find a place in this universe. As long as New York was still here, though, he knew he’d be okay.

He didn’t fly straight into the city, knowing there were a lot of anti-aircraft measures after 9/11, and instead he backtracked a bit, scouring the area below until he saw what he was looking for. He landed quietly in a parking lot that had few cars in it, next to a train station for commuters. It was pretty empty, and as he looked around he realized it must be a weekend or a holiday, since the lot was fairly well used.

After a brief look around, he found a board with a train schedule, and determined that the next train was due within an hour or so, if the clock above the board was right. He sat down to wait, resigned to spending the time bored out of his mind. 

Despite the train station being mostly deserted (according to the board, it was a Sunday afternoon, which explained the lack of people) there were a few stragglers moving in and out, and they all gave him a wide berth. He couldn’t blame them – his suit wasn’t exactly made for camouflage, and he must look like a crazy person.

He shifted on the hard wooden bench, and then straightened, thinking. With a few taps on the access panel of his suit, he brought up the HUD display. His AI couldn’t do a lot, but parts of it were designed by Tony Stark, so he had a few tricks up his sleeves. Looking around, he found a good target, an older man typing furiously on a laptop and glancing at his watch every few seconds, and back to the board showing the train times. Quentin pointed his AI at the man’s laptop, and within a few seconds, it found a backdoor and accessed the wireless signal. Now Quentin had internet, and he could do some research while he waited.

He pulled up Google and paused, unsure where to start. There was so much he needed to know about this universe from a mission critical perspective, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it right now. So much of their plans had been focused around getting away from the elementals, and what they would do as a pair if they made it out. Neither of them were even thinking about the possibility that only one of them would live.

Quentin sighed and navigated to CNN, hoping to get a broader idea of the world at large. He scrolled through the headlines, taking them in. There was a new scandal involving one of the cabinet members taking something that could be considered a bribe, there were _still_ in the war in Iraq (he had to stifle the urge to roll his eyes, he’d hoped but not expected that there would be at least one universe where America wasn’t in a forever war with at least one other country but at least it meant this universe couldn’t be _that_ different) and as he scrolled, one story caught his eye.

It was a lighter piece, commenting on something called ‘The Blip’. The article didn’t go into details about it, assuming the reader had a baseline knowledge that Quentin lacked. He went back to google and searched for ‘The Blip’, then started reading.

After another twenty minutes he surfaced from his research, looking around the station in amazement. _Half_ of the people in the world disappeared? And they’d only just recently gotten back? It was amazing they had a functional society at all, let alone the fact that it looked to him like nothing changed. With a five year gap like the one described, he couldn’t imagine the infrastructure hadn’t taken a huge hit, but everything looked the same as it had ever been.

Unconsciously, his right hand drifted down to twist the ring on his left, a nervous gesture that he’d mostly stopped doing. When he realized, he dropped his hands, annoyed at himself. He brought up the HUD again and kept reading, needing more information on the world.

He found more about The Blip, as well as what had happened to fix it. His heart sank as he read about Tony’s death – he’d hoped to have a familiar face in this universe, and knowing his old friend hadn’t survived this time either hurt, like picking at an old scab. With the articles detailing the death of Iron Man, he also found other mentions of superheroes, and one caught his eyes.

Spider-Man, New York’s most controversial figure, had been spotted swinging around midtown once or twice since The Blip was reversed, leading many to assume that he’d been blipped out of existence and only recently returned. Quentin’s heart clenched at a picture of the familiar costume, and he closed the window quickly.

Before he could do any more research, he heard a train approaching and glanced up, checking the time. It was the right one, and he stood, brushing off his suit. His movement drew the eyes of the people who had filed in since he got there, and he ignored them, walking over to stand next to the slowing train.

When it came to a stop, he climbed on with the rest of the passengers and took a seat as far away from anyone else as he could get. Since it was empty, that was actually a few rows from the nearest person, for which he was grateful.

Focusing, he reached inside himself for the spark of energy that made up his power, and cloaked himself with it. It was a neat trick he’d learned a while back – he wasn’t invisible, per se, but it worked as a shield to deflect people from noticing him. If anyone was really looking, they’d see him, but the conductor wouldn’t think to ask him for a ticket.

With that taken care of, Quentin leaned back against the seat, looking out the window and wondering where to go from there.


	5. Logos - Beginnings - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will preface this with 'I know nothing about programming and I am sorry if it shows'. I'm sorry if it's not a thing, or it makes no sense, I just like the idea. Nothing more technical than this will happen in the story (I think) so if you can read it, you're probably good. I know my limits when talking about things I don't understand :P

Quentin and Peter broke apart, awkward and embarrassed. Tony shuffled his feet in the doorway, and then strode into the room, refusing to be cowed in his own home. In his own _ lab_, for god’s sake. 

“What did I specifically tell you not to do?” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, not making eye contact with Tony. “I asked exactly _ one thing _ of you, and that was _ not to do anything with him_.” Tony stood at the foot of the couch, glaring down at them. 

Peter was still sitting on Quentin’s lap, and he slowly levered himself up and off the man’s thighs, wincing as he realized it left Quentin’s (rather impressive) erection tenting the front of his slacks. Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose and groaned. 

“I don’t even know why I bother, you always do what I tell you not to. Is this how my father sounded? Is this how he _ felt _?” Tony shook his head, disgusted with himself. 

Peter crossed his arms, sulking, and sank down next to Quentin on the comfy couch. The cushions were so plush that his body swayed into Quentin’s, and the older man didn’t move away, enjoying the body heat. 

He did turn to Tony and offer him a conciliatory nod. 

“T- uh, Mr. Stark, sir, it wasn’t my intention to–to-” He broke off, looking for a word that would sound less like he’d taken Peter’s virginity. None came to mind, and he fell silent momentarily, trying to parse the stuttering of his mental functions. Usually he was good with people, you don’t head a department at age twenty-nine if you’re _ bad _ with people, but his entire brain seemed to have left the building. 

When Tony nodded at him to continue, Quentin shrugged, and gestured towards Peter. “I only meant that – I didn’t anticipate this happening, and I’m sorry for having caused you this trouble in your evening.” There, that was putting it mildly, like he tripped and spilled wine on Tony’s white sheets or something, not groped his son and almost exposed his secret identity. 

_ His secret identity – oh my god, Peter Parker is Spider-Man. _

Quentin blinked, trying to calm his whirring thoughts, and shook his head when that didn’t work. He turned towards Peter, trying to find some way to fix it. “Maybe I can – I can just not tell anyone. I’m sure I’m not the first person to find out by accident and-” He cut off at the twin looks of confusion and fear from Peter and Tony, and his mouth snapped closed before opening again. 

“Wait – you’re, you can’t be serious,_ nobody else knows_? How does – what – why are you letting him do it?” His voice rose to nearly a should at the end of his sentence, and he stood, advancing on Tony who suddenly looked scared. “He’s–He’s barely a _ child _ and he’s been doing it since he was, what, fourteen?” Tony took a breath, clearly going to attempt to intervene, and Quentin steamrolled right over him, backing him towards the wall. 

“And you – you didn’t just not stop him, you _ encouraged _ him! He was a fourteen year old kid, and you build him a suit, you let him fight monsters that nearly ended the world!” Tony’s back hit the wall behind him, and Quentin realized he’d backed the man nearly halfway across the room. 

He was too angry to do anything but catalogue that information, however, and he kept yelling. “And you!” He whirled on Peter, who was still by the couch, looking like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to intervene or not. Tony was a superhero, but Quentin knew he got scary when he was angry. He’d purposefully cultivated his looks to be very disarming as a result – he tended to favor sweaters and soft palettes when he dressed for work, clothes that made him look more like Mr. Rogers than a supervillain. 

Quentin pointed at Peter, his eyes narrowing. “You were running around, at age_ fourteen _in your PJs and fighting criminals! You – I can’t – why would you do that?” Peter shrugged at him, but Quentin didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “I can’t even – what did you think you were doing? Kids should – they should be _ safe, _ they shouldn’t have to–to _ worry _ about things like that!” 

At his words, Peter straightened his spine, and his head snapped up, eyes boring into Quentin’s. Quentin knew he might have just said something very stupid, and he paused, waiting. 

Peter didn’t disappoint. “How dare you! You’re trying to tell me what I can and can’t do? You think kids shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that? Well guess what, I was _already dealing with it!_ I watched my uncle get shot right in front of me, and I live every damn day knowing that I could have done something and I didn’t!” Quentin felt something in his heart break at that, and abruptly all of the rage pooling in his gut dissipated. Peter didn’t seem to notice the change and continued on. 

“And you’re telling me I was what, too young? I was stopping criminals! I was helping people! What did that ever get me, huh? All I ever hear is people talking about how shit a job I do, how I wasn’t fast enough, didn’t do something right, didn’t save everyone, and you know what? They’re right!” Peter’s eyes flashed dangerously and he was breathing heavy, but he didn’t stop. 

“I should have been better, I should _be _better but I’m still trying! Every damn day I’m trying to make a difference, and I just want to make shit better.” He came to a stop abruptly and sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes screwed tightly shut, and Quentin had to fight the urge to gather him into his arms and just hold him. 

Tony didn’t fight his compulsion, and did exactly that, pushing past Quentin and moving towards Peter. Peter took a step back when Tony approached but Tony paid him no mind, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Peter, holding him close. Peter’s face crumpled and he clutched at Tony’s shirt, pressing his face to Tony’s chest. 

He wasn’t sobbing, exactly, but he was taking small hitching breaths and his hands were both clutched in the expensive material of Tony’s button-down. Tony held him close and stroked one hand through his hair, glaring at Quentin above the boy’s head.

Any remaining urge to yell rushed out of Quentin at that point, and he could do nothing but watch as Tony comforted the boy, talking to him in low tones and murmuring as he held him close. 

Tony guided Peter to sit back down on the couch, and Quentin hovered, unsure where to stand or sit. After a few minutes, Peter raised his head, eyes red-rimmed, to look at Quentin apologetically. 

“S-Sorry, I’m – it’s a lot sometimes, with my powers it makes it kind of hard to – ah – to stay composed when things are happening.” Quentin nodded, wanting to reach out and touch Peter’s face where he could see a spot of moisture clinging to his cheek, but resisted the urge. Tony looked ready to rip his head off if he came any closer. “With my senses – they’re dialed up to eleven a lot of the time, and if something’s happening, I just – my fight or flight instinct is all messed up. It’s great in a fight when I know exactly what to do, but if there’s nothing to hit, it ends up getting garbled.”

Peter scrubbed at his face, clearly embarrassed, and Quentin sighed, unsure how to fix it. He didn’t want to be the cause of Peter’s heartache, he’d only known the boy maybe an hour but he already felt fiercely protective over him. 

Quentin chanced a look at Tony, who was still glaring and then sat on the couch opposite the pair. “I’m sorry.” Peter looked at him quizzically, and Quentin shrugged, wiping his palms on his dress pants. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially without all the facts. I’m sorry, and I wasn’t trying to say I didn’t think you were capable of doing the things you do. Just that I’m sorry you have to.” Peter nodded and sniffled a bit, shooting him a watery smile. 

“T-Thanks. It means a lot.” All three of them stayed frozen for a few moments more, unsure of what would happen next. 

After a few more seconds of silence, Tony blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Alright, well now that we’re all through the lovey-dovey part of the evening, how about we figure out what we’re going to do?” Peter looked at him and nodded, and Quentin shrugged in agreement. 

Peter shifted so he was less in Tony’s arms and more on the couch properly, and faced Quentin. He looked from him to Tony and back again. 

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” Quentin blinked at the question, taken aback. 

“What?” He cocked his head, sure he’d misheard. “You think I would do that?” He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice, and Peter reached out a hand unthinkingly, covering Quentin’s with his own. 

“I’m not – I wasn’t trying to say you would. But you were so angry about, uh, me being Spider-Man that I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t like, go to the world securities council or anything.” Quentin, momentarily distracted by the small, warm hand over his own, blinked and looked back up to Peter, and then to Tony. 

“I would never betray your trust like that, _ not ever_.” He pushed as much of his conviction into his tone as he could, needing them to understand how he felt. “I still think you were too young to be doing it unsupervised, and I would like to get a look at your emergency protocols-” He shared a look with Tony, who nodded seriously at him, “But it’s in the past and I know that you’ve been doing it just fine without anyone else looking over your shoulder for this long, so I wouldn’t try to stop you.” 

Peter’s face relaxed and his shoulders loosened, losing some of the tension Quentin hadn’t noticed he carried until it was gone. “Great, that’s – that’s good. Thank you.” Quentin smiled at him, and then turned more seriously to Tony. 

“And I know I’m not _ Tony Stark_, but if you wouldn’t mind me looking over the coding for his suit, it would give me some peace of mind to know how it runs.” Tony didn’t reject the idea out of hand, which was more than Quentin expected already, and instead looked thoughtful. 

“How much coding do you know?” Quentin shrugged, not wanting to promise more than he could deliver. 

“All the major languages, plus a few of the more unique ones.” Both Peter and Tony blinked, taken by surprise. Quentin bit his lip, unsure of himself. 

Peter spoke first, shooting a glance at Tony before he did. “_ All _ of the major languages?” Quentin nodded, unsure why he was asking. “And you know how to write in them?” Quentin nodded once more. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but Peter whooping and jumping up while Tony groaned, dropping his head into his palms, wasn’t it. “Wh–What does that mean?” 

Tony answered first, through his fingers since his hands still covered his face. “He’s gonna ask you to help him with his homework. For my own peace of mind, please say no.” 

Peter shushed him, still grinning. “No, come on Tony, this is perfect!” Tony muttered something under his breath, still face down in his palms. “He can help, and he can look over my suit to double-check the redundancies.” 

Peter faced Quentin, and his smile dimmed a bit. “Uh, I mean, if you want to, that is. I uh – I’ve got this summer project, for school, it’s sort of like an internship, but not really, since I’m just doing my own thesis project for fun kinda.” He shrugged awkwardly, and Quentin got a glimpse of the awkward teen Peter had been very recently, instead of the more polished and presentable young man Quentin made out with. 

Peter shrugged off the awkwardness and smiled at Quentin again. “But yeah, I was going to – I had this idea, to do a comparison of all of the programming languages and look for similarities. Like, how they do with language languages, only for coding.” Quentin smiled at him, and Peter blushed slightly. 

“Oh, like how Native Americans in Alaska have fifty different words for snow but in English, we only have the one? It shows a difference in the cultures, right?” Peter nodded, excited, and grinned at Quentin again. 

“Yeah! Exactly!” Peter’s voice rose an octave and he winced, slapping a hand over his mouth. Quentin smiled back at him, understanding. “And well, if you’re not too busy, it would be cool to pick your brain about it, maybe figure out some good places to start. If you know all of the major programming languages, you probably have a better idea of that than I do, since I only know a handful.” Peter scratched at the back of his neck and shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to learn more, but yeah, Spider-Man-ing takes up more of my free time than I want it to.” Quentin grinned, both at the admission and the casual way Peter dropped that fact like Quentin was _in the know_. 

“I think knowing a handful is more than respectable, especially with all of your extracurriculars.” Peter flushed and smiled at him again, and Quentin pushed away the thought of how Peter sounded when he was in Quentin’s lap. Peter was pretty close to perfect, and he could see why Tony took to him so quickly. “And I’d love to help with your project, that is, if my boss gives me the time off to help with it.” He looked at Tony, mostly teasing. 

Tony squinted, confused, and then straightened. “Oh yeah, that’s why I thought you were familiar earlier. You do work for me, don’t you?” Peter rolled his eyes as Quentin nodded, not even expecting that much recognition from the man. 

“Yes, I’m one of the department heads for R&D, but I think your point of contact is usually Mike, right?” Tony nodded. “Yeah, he handles stuff like that, I do more overseeing of all the projects and stuff, which means knowing the coding languages is pretty useful.” Peter nodded, hanging on his every word, and Tony rolled his eyes behind Peter’s back. 

“Yeah, I usually talk with Mike. I’ll make sure he knows you’re good to help Peter, if you really don’t mind.” Tony sounded resigned, and he wasn’t trying to stop Quentin from spending time with Peter, which meant he didn’t mind as much as he was saying. 

Quentin looked over towards Peter, who looked like he was trying not to bounce up and down in his chair with excitement, and smiled. “Of course, I’d love to help. It’s a really interesting idea, and I think you’ll find some cool connections there.” Peter beamed, and Quentin’s heart hurt a little at the sight. Peter was so _pretty_ and he made Quentin want to give him the moon. Now that he’d met the boy, he was surprised that Tony had managed to be so restrained with his spending. 

Tony nodded, and stood. “And just to be clear, if you do _ anything _ to hurt him, or expose him, or anything else, I will make sure you’re fired and discredited and out on your ass so fast there will be a you-shaped shadow on the ground.” Quentin nodded seriously, taking the threat at face value even as Peter pouted at Tony. 

“I wouldn’t.” Tony considered his statement and nodded again, taking it as truth. “And Tony – I was serious about getting a look at his suit, if you don’t mind. I’m not the best programmer, but if just you and him are the only ones that have worked on it, you could use a fresh pair of eyes looking it over.” 

Tony gave him a half agreeing wave of his hand, already turning on his heel towards the door. “Of course, Buttercup, we’ll set something up. I’ll call my people.” He paused at the doorway, and glanced back at Peter and Quentin, still sitting opposite each other on the lab couches. 

He gave them both a hard look, and Quentin wasn’t sure what he meant by it until he spoke again. “Peter, I would _much prefer _you not sleep with my employees, and come to think of it, I would _love _to still consider you a kid and not think about you having sex at all, but just – do whatever you want, lord knows I did much worse at your age. Just, be careful.” With those parting words, he left, and Peter and Quentin were alone again. 

Quentin looked at Peter, and Peter looked back at him, pink rising up in his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have time to write the next couple days! So hopefully more content will happen soon! Yay lol, I want to do more but keep getting sidetracked. 
> 
> Also - I've noticed that for some reason A03 keeps putting spaces between a word and a comma or period if the word is italicized, so I'm sorry if there are any of those, I keep catching more and I'm sure there are some I haven't seen yet. Thanks for bearing with me!


	6. Dis - New Beginnings - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the jumping back and forth, hopefully this makes sense! Ack writing has been kicking my ass lately, so sorry this is later than I was hoping :P

When his train pulled into Grand Central, Quentin righted himself from where he was slumped over, half asleep as he looked out the window. He’d given up researching after a while, and had just taken to watching the scenery pass by. It really did look like home, his home, at least before it had been torn up by the elementals.

The crush of people was familiar, and Quentin followed the flow of traffic, letting bodies push him left and right as people hurried to the places they were going. Once he was out of the platform area, he stopped, looking up at the constellations painted on the ceiling.

Peter loved Grand Central, he’d always been excited whenever they ended up there, and he loved looking up at the stars. Quentin thought Peter needed to spend more time out of the city, but he’d only gotten a few chances to really show him what a night sky was _supposed_ to look like. Peter’s awe at the sight nearly knocked Quentin over with how much he loved his husband, but he’d held himself in check and kept from ravishing him until they were safely alone once more.

Quentin shook himself from the daydream and pulled his head back down to earth, looking away from the constellations painted on the ceiling. If he lost himself to thoughts about what he’d lost, he wouldn’t ever stop dwelling on it.

First things were first – he needed a place to stay, and preferably some money. That meant reaching out to one of the superhero groups in the city and asking for some assistance. With any luck, he’d reach SHIELD, since they were the most well-funded of them all. He briefly considered looking for an alternate universe version of himself, but he didn’t think he was ready for that yet.

Quentin knew a few of the secret SHIELD bolt holes, and he pulled up a map of the city on his HUD. He’d only been to their headquarters a few times, but he remembered what the inside looked like, if not the outside. With the help of his suit AI, he found the location of the secret entrance on the map and hoped that it was still the same in this universe.

When he got to the location it looked like an empty building: ‘condemned’ signs hung on the doors and most of the windows were broken. Trying the handles, he found they were fixed solidly shut, and even with a push from his powers they didn’t budge. Quentin sighed and leaned against the railing of the stairs. With one hand, he reached out and banged on the doors, not really expecting an answer.

A minute later, while he was still trying to figure out the next place to try, he heard a click from the door, and it swung open an inch. One angry eye looked out at him, judging, and he barely got a second to see the expression change from anger to confusion before the door closed again, and then swung open wide.

Nick Fury stood there glaring at him, a gun pointed at Quentin’s head. “Who are you?” Quentin held his hands up, placating, and looked the man up and down. He looked good, better than Quentin remembered. Granted, the last time Quentin had seen _his_ Nick Fury it was the end of a long and bloody war, but he digressed.

“Quentin Beck, but that probably means nothing to you. It – this might take a while to explain, but I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not, ah, not from around here.” Fury nodded slowly and gestured with the gun for him to step inside. Quentin did so, letting the man see he wasn’t armed (with a gun, at least) and that he was doing as Fury said. Fury didn’t look any happier with him, but he lowered the gun so it wasn’t pointed at Quentin any more.

“Alright, so start talking. I’ve met people that ‘weren’t from around here’ before, and you’re nothing like them.” Quentin looked around, taking in the interior of the building. The foyer looked just as ramshackle and rundown as the exterior, and he wondered idly where they kept the good stuff. Fury tapped his foot, impatient, and Quentin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the theatricality.

“What, here? I know you’ve got a super-secret boy band high tech lair, and we’re gonna pretend you don’t and stand here in this mess?” He gestured at the scattered debris on the floor, and Fury lifted an eyebrow.

“I only know one person who referred to us as a Super-Secret Boy Band, and you are _definitely_ not him. I suggest you start talking or else I might start to wonder exactly _how_ you’re connected to Tony Stark.” Quentin winced, unused to the lack of trust from the other man.

“Right, okay. I’m from a different universe.” Quentin wasn’t sure what he expected from the man, but a snort and a roll of his eye was not it. Fury gave him another unimpressed look and folded his arms, waiting. “It’s true, how can I prove it? I knew you, in that universe, although not that well since you’re a pretty private guy.” Fury looked him up and down and snorted again.

“Bullshit. You’re not from another universe, how do I know you’re not just some whack job trying to infiltrate SHIELD to take over the world?” It was Quentin’s turn to roll his eyes, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he tried to think of something that would convince Fury that he wasn’t lying.

All of a sudden the answer came to him in the form of his AI, who gently interrupted his thoughts. “If I may, possibly the existence of an AI created by Tony Stark for your suit would go a long way towards proving your story.” Quentin’s head shot up and he nodded, agreeing.

Fury, who couldn’t see the inside of his HUD or hear the AI, just looked blankly at him. “What now?”

Quentin straightened his back and looked at Fury, trying to figure out the best way to introduce the two. He reached up and pulled off his helmet, surprising Fury. The original design for the suit included a full helmet that looked like a fishbowl but displayed his HUD inside. He’d been fine with the design, since style wasn’t his goal, safety was, but Peter had made fun of him for so long that Quentin begged Tony to make it less gaudy.

Tony, in his infinite wisdom and love of giving Quentin shit, had done no such thing. Quentin’s helmet was still a fishbowl, but at least now he could make it invisible, so it just looked like he wasn’t wearing the helmet. When he disengaged it and pulled it off, it reappeared, and Fury blinked, confused. It looked to him for a second like Quentin had made the helmet appear out of thin air, but then he realized the helmet had been cloaked somehow and relaxed. Once it was off, Quentin shook his head, breathing in the dusty air of the building.

“Sorry, helmet.” Fury accepted that explanation, nodding at him to continue. With the helmet off, Quentin could project audio from his suit’s AI without a problem.

He chanced a look at Fury, who was still impassively waiting for him to present his case and sighed before addressing the AI. “DICK, can you tell Director Fury who I am?” Fury raised an eyebrow but didn’t attempt to interrupt, instead gesturing for him to continue.

“I am DICK, an artificial intelligence designed by Mr. Stark for Quentin Beck. He is not from this universe, but rather a different universe where the Earth was destroyed by the Elementals, a group of beings that consumed the planet. He is the only survivor of that universe and managed to transport himself here before he too perished.” Fury nodded at the AI’s words, taking them in.

Quentin didn’t speak, letting Fury think it over. After a few more moments, Fury cut his eyes back to Quentin. “How do I know the AI isn’t just someone with a mic hiding a few blocks down?” It was Quentin’s turn to roll his eyes and he scoffed, giving Fury a look.

“Ask him what you want, he’ll answer.”

Fury raised one eyebrow. “So you want me to talk to this…DICK?” Quentin rolled his eyes again and nodded.

“Believe me, the name was _not_ my idea, Tony loves his nicknames for things. It stands for Damn Important Computing Knowhow, and yes, I do. He’s got databases and information from my world, but I know that isn’t what you’re looking for. DICK, can you give Fury a demonstration, something that would show that you were designed by Tony and not anyone else?”

The AI hummed and for a few moments didn’t say anything further. After he was finished gathering all the data, he started. “This building is owned by a shell corporation called Strategic Planning Enterprises, one of a few hundred that SHIELD uses to control various entities around the world. This is listed as an office building scheduled for demolition, which keeps getting delayed, but in actuality it is a high tech facility that houses some of the most sensitive information on Superheroes in the world. There are seven levels below ground level, only one of which is on any official city plans or listings.”

Fury halted the outpouring of data with a raised hand, cutting the AI off. “Okay, okay. So you have access to information that you shouldn’t, and something _claiming_ to be an AI designed by Tony Stark. That proves nothing, other than that you have access to information you shouldn’t.” Quentin huffed, throwing his arms up.

“What, okay, what do you want? What could possibly make you believe me, that I’m from another universe?” Fury cocked his head, looking Quentin up and down.

“Now that you mention it, there really isn’t a whole lot.” Quentin clenched his fists in annoyance, but before he could say anything else, the sound of hurried footsteps made them both pause.

Quentin turned and saw Maria Hill hurrying towards them, looking out of place in the dingy warehouse with her pristine blazer and pants. Her face was set, stern, and she didn’t even glance at Quentin, focused solely on Fury.

“Sir, you’re needed. If you could come with me.” Fury looked her over and gave her a nod, turning back to Quentin.

“Well, unless you can think of a way to convince me, you’re more than welcome to leave. Some of us have actual things to be doing, instead of playing dress up.” With one last look at Quentin, Fury turned and followed Hill around a corner, out of sight.

Quentin sighed, and turned back towards the door he’d entered through. Instead of walking out, though, he put the helmet back on, toggling the feature that obscured his face.

“DICK, can you get into their systems and figure out what they’re freaked about? If it’s something bad, I want to help if I can.” The AI hummed again and started working through the firewalls. After only a few moments Quentin had his information, and his eyes widened as he read.

“They’re – no, that’s not right, we _made sure_. We – what if – they’re here? Really?” Quentin felt like his heart was beating too fast and he pushed his palm against the wall, trying to steady himself.

DICK responded after a moment, when it was clear Quentin was so affected that he couldn’t get any more words out. “Yes, sir, it appears the elementals are present in this universe as well. I am seeing an increase in the seismic activity like we saw before the emergence of the first elemental, with a focus that looks to be concentrating somewhere in South America.” Quentin felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and he clenched his eyes shut, breathing through his nose. _Not again. They’re here. They’re going to –_

He cut off his train of thought with a wrench, and straightened. He knew one thing for absolutely certain – The Elementals were _not_ going to touch one hair on Peter Parker’s head, and Quentin would make _sure of that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I had a lot of fun coming up with the name for the AI ;)


	7. Dis - New Beginnings - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I was going to have a new chapter for this tomorrow and I lied. Lol. I am excited to have more stuff, and will probably have more for this tomorrow or the next day. This is a baby chapter because the place it ends is the beginning of something else, and yeah, you'll see with the next part.

Quentin took a deep breath and held it while DICK ran the calculations again, double-checking the math. When he returned with the results that yes, it was 99.98% certain that it was an Elemental and not just an earthquake, Quentin let the breath out through his teeth with a hiss.

“Alright, DICK, can you access weather satellites and plot a course to that location? I’d rather not fight the Jetstream if I don’t have to.” The AI responded with a confirmation and Quentin took another deep breath in and out while he waited.

When he opened his eyes, he realized he still stood in the fake-rundown SHIELD building. Annoyed at Fury for dismissing him so easily, Quentin stormed out of the doors and back onto the street.

There weren’t many people around, and those that were gave him a wide berth, clearly used to avoiding crazy costumed weirdos on the streets of New York City. Quentin looked around before he lifted off, using his powers to cloak himself so nobody looking would think anything about his disappearance.

Hovering just above the sidewalk, he re-engaged his helmet and glanced at the readout on the HUD. “DICK, where are we with that flight plan? Am I good to take off from here?” The AI hummed for a moment, and then responded.

“You are clear to take off. I was able to get into SHIELD’s records with the proximity to their servers and have added your signature to the national databases as one of the apparatuses approved for flight within the no-fly zone of New York City.” Quentin nodded and shot straight upwards, enjoying the swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I have used weather satellites and other data prediction models to create about half of your flight plan so far. If you follow the readout on your screen, I can direct you. The additional part of the flight plan will be completed en route.”

A red flashing arrow labeled ‘follow me, moron’ popped up on Quentin’s HUD and he grinned before following it swiftly. Tony’s ability to create AI was unmatched, and Quentin never appreciated it more than when DICK lived up to his name and talked to Quentin like he was a moron. There was something familiar about the teasing sarcasm that made the distance from his own world and his old life both closer and also pushed further into the background.

As he flew, Quentin contemplated the information (or lack thereof) he’d gotten from Fury. Clearly the man was cautious, and he had every right to be with how much had happened in this world during the last few years. And now they would also have the Elementals to deal with, which was in a whole other _ league _ of shitshow.

“DICK, can you bring up all the information on the Elementals for me to look over? Start with the one that this is most likely to be.” The files appeared on his HUD and Quentin started reading, taking in all of the information once more. The first time through, he’d only glanced at the technical stuff, the science technobabble that their scientists spouted; but now he knew they were a much bigger threat than he could face alone, and if he needed to convince Fury (and the rest of the world at large) that it was a serious threat, he would need to have the facts on his side.

He multitasked as he followed the flight path, and read as much of the information as he could. It was mostly information he already knew, but the refresher didn’t hurt. When he landed in Ixtenco, Mexico, he was as ready to fight the Elementals as he’d ever been, and more determined than ever to destroy them.

“My sensors are detecting some disturbances in the ground to the south of the town. With this information in addition to the information gathered the last time you fought the Elementals, I have determined that this is likely to be the Earth Elemental.” Quentin nodded, remembering that fight. It wasn’t one of the first he’d had at Peter’s side, but it was one of the first where Peter was hurt badly enough for Quentin to be worried sick while he healed.

He shook his head, trying to clear the memories of watching Peter fall. Peter came out of the fight with breaks in three of the bones in his legs, but he healed from it just like he always had. It was Quentin’s turn now to pull stupid stunts, because Peter wasn’t here to do it this time.

When the ground shook noticeably under his feet, he straightened, looking towards the area his HUD indicated the Elemental would appear. With a shake, he readied himself, taking a stance that would let him use his powers without blasting himself backwards. _ Newton’s third law of Physics, Quentin, come on! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to jananaNoir for the beta! <3


	8. Logos - Training - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter to offset the baby one from yesterday! Pay attention to the chapter titles lol, they're gonna start getting messier

“No, absolutely not.” Tony’s voice was higher than it usually was, but it was also _ louder _ than it usually was, so he probably thought nobody noticed on account of the more pressing matters at hand. Quentin noticed, however, and he was careful to face away from Tony until he could control the smirk threatening to take over his face. Tony was awfully protective of Peter, no matter how the boy showed that he didn’t need protecting.

“Tony, come on. He’s got powers, powers _we helped give him_. I have to be there while he’s learning to control them; it’s only right that I’m the one putting myself in the way of danger.” Peter’s voice was higher as well, and Quentin winced at the thought of Peter putting himself in harm’s way _again _because of something Quentin had done.

“There’s a difference between knowing that actions have consequences and _ deliberately putting yourself in the way of harm, _ Peter, and you can’t expect me to just stand here and watch you do this.” Quentin sighed and turned away from the wall in his small cell, no longer feeling like smirking. The situation was not a good one, and it only took a minute for the mirth he felt at Tony’s overprotective dad routine to wear off.

“Hey, if you’re done arguing, I might have a solution.” Both Peter and Tony’s voices dropped off as Quentin spoke up for the first time. He could hear the awkwardness coming off Peter as he realized Quentin could hear them arguing, despite the boy not saying a word. “Have you been able to get more info on the device?” Tony walked into view behind the six-inch bulletproof glass that made up the fourth wall of the cell Quentin was in.

“We haven’t – it’s like all of the energy readings we were getting off it are gone. Whatever was in it, or whatever it _ was _ is now somewhere else.” Quentin frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that, or what might be coming next. Tony looked up at him, making eye contact through the thick glass. “You’re giving off the same readings, though, so I’d be willing to bet that you absorbed whatever it was that was in there.” Quentin shook his head, casting his eyes up to the ceiling.

“Yeah, okay. Of course. Can you – what kind of readings?” Tony kicked at the bottom of the glass with the toe of his expensive Italian leather shoes, not answering right away. “Tony. What readings?”

“Radiation. Mostly. But not always, so we’re not sure if it’s going to settle down, or if you’re just stuck like this.” Quentin closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. _ Radiation_.

“And what does that mean. For me, I mean.” He already knew, but he wanted to hear it from Tony.

“Well, if you didn’t get a super ability to withstand radiation along with everything else, it means you’re probably dead within the week.” Quentin knew Tony was trying to be straightforward with the news, presenting a possible outcome, but he still hated to hear it. He almost would have preferred Tony to be laughing and joking like he usually did with dire situations; the sudden seriousness of the man’s expression was enough to strike a dark fear into Quentin’s heart.

“Tony!” Peter’s voice cut through Quentin’s thoughts, and he looked up to see Peter skid into view around the cinderblock wall and come to a stop next to Tony. “You can’t just say that! That’s the worst possible scenario.” He looked earnestly at Quentin, and pressed his hands to the glass. “You’ll be okay, I know it. We don’t think it’s likely that you’d be unable to handle the additional radiation, and we’re gonna give you anti-radiation pills that should help as well, if you have only low level resistance.” He gave Quentin a half-smile, shrugging one shoulder. “We’re taking them too, just in case, although I don’t even think I’m going to be affected, since I got my powers from a radioactive spider. I might just be immune through exposure at this point.” Tony frowned at him, turning to face Peter.

“We don’t know if you’re immune or not, Peter, and you need to make sure you’re taking the pills because we were all exposed before we knew anything was wrong.” Peter scowled at Tony and rolled his eyes.

“I know, Tony, but thanks for reminding me _ again_.” He turned back towards Quentin, who gave him a hard look.

“Tony’s right, Peter, you don’t know if you’re immune, and since you’re the person I spend the most time around, you would have gotten the biggest dose of radiation before we figured out what was wrong.” Peter threw his hands up and half turned away, playing up the theatrics. Quentin had to fight a smile, and he gave Peter a mock glare. “You listen here, Peter, you know it’s serious when Tony and I agree on anything, so you take those pills.” Peter smiled at him and bobbed his head, agreeing.

“Yeah, okay _ dad_.” Peter meant it as a joke, but the word sent a shiver up Quentin’s spine and he locked eyes with Peter, heat in his gaze.

“No, no, nonono_ nonono_.” Tony sliced his arms through the air, demonstrating with his whole body how against the idea he was. “You do _ not _ get to do that – here! In my house! Where we’re keeping you very comfortable! You are _ in no way _ allowed to hit on Peter, my _ adopted child_, while I am standing right here! And with that!” Peter turned quickly so Tony couldn’t see his smile. Quentin didn’t make any effort to hide his own, leaning back and spreading his legs suggestively.

“Well come on then Tony, you’ve given me such a nice room, as you said.” Quentin gestured at the concrete walls and floor surrounding him. “And such a nice _son_, too. You know, I always did wonder about the two of you; you were awfully close with him from such a young age…” Tony made a disgusted sound and stalked off to gales of laughter from Quentin.

Once he calmed down, Quentin looked back to Peter, who still stood outside the cell, bright red with embarrassment. Peter’s glare was only slightly tempered by the redness still in his cheeks, and his voice was quiet when he spoke. “Come on, Quentin, you - ! You know the press was awful with all of that for so many years! We had to deal with it for so long and it’s just finally getting back to normal now.” Quentin hung his head, abashed.

“Sorry, Peter, I forgot. I didn’t mean that I thought you two were – I’m sorry.” When he looked up at Peter, though, it was through lidded eyes, and Peter’s reaction let him know immediately that his suspicions were correct. “But you know, you both were _ awfully _ defensive about it, hmm?” Peter flushed once more. “You know, I don’t think you and Tony would ever be – no, he’s too close to an actual father for you, huh Peter?” Peter shook his head quickly, scrunching his nose at the thought.

Quentin leaned back and looked at Peter, throwing him a dirty smirk. Peter’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t keep Quentin from speaking if he wanted to, with the glass separating them. “Now come on, Peter,” Quentin’s voice was husky, a come hither look in his eyes, “and tell me that you _ don’t _ want me to call you Baby Boy, hmm?” Peter was frozen, a blush on his cheeks. “You _ don’t _ want to be good for your daddy, hmm?”

_ “Quentin.” _ Peter’s hushed whisper was still loud in the silence of the hallway, and Quentin listed a brow at him, waiting. “You can’t – _ you can’t say that! _ Here! Tony has – he has _ cameras _ and stuff, he can _ hear you _ and you’re saying! That!” Peter threw his hands up, giving Quentin a glare. “He’s going to _ kill me _ if he ever hears you say that!”

Quentin smirked again, running his hands over his thighs suggestively in an attempt to distract. “Yeah, Baby Boy?” Peter’s rushed intake of air and sudden silence was telling, and Quentin grinned at him outright. “Well, I can see we have something new to try out, don’t we?” Instead of arguing more, Peter nodded silently, eyes wide. Quentin looked him over, taking in the boy’s nervous energy. “Peter, hey, seriously. C'mere.” Quentin slid off the bench and knelt by the glass that separated him from Peter, pressing a hand against the thick pane.

Peter knelt, pressing his hand against the other side. “Hey, Quentin.” He gave Quentin a nervous smile, still shaky but trying to reassure. “Hey, it’ll be okay.” Quentin nodded, wishing he could hold Peter in that moment.

“Yeah, I know it will. We’ll be okay, Pete.” Peter nodded at him, and Quentin’s heart broke a little as he saw the boy blinking rapidly, his eyes moist. “Hey, hey. You know me.” Peter nodded again. “When have I ever let anything keep me from doing something I want to do?” Peter shrugged. “Yeah, come on, I don’t ever do that. And you and me, Baby Boy, we’re gonna get through this too.” Peter gave him a watery smile, and Quentin smiled back at him. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you arguing with Tony about wanting to train with me.”

Peter scowled, rolling his eyes. “Well _ yeah, _ if you’re gonna have powers now you should be trained, and I want to help. I want to be here for you.” Quentin looked him up and down. Peter squirmed under the observation. “And I mean, you know. I am responsible for what happened.” He looked down, brows drawn together, and Quentin let his head drop to thunk against the glass between them.

“Peter, you’re not – no. You’re not responsible. I’m – it was me, it was my fault. I should have known, I should have taken the extra precautions–” Peter was already shaking his head, but Quentin held up a hand to stop him before he could speak. “Okay, wait. If we’re both arguing that we’re at fault, we’re not going to be able to get anything else done. How about we agree to disagree for now, and focus on getting through the next week?” Peter nodded, a spark of hope in his eyes.

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do that.” Quentin nodded and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Good, because once I’m out of here and declared safe to be around, you and me, Baby Boy, we have some _ things _ to take care of.” Peter’s answering flush told Quentin everything he needed to know, and he laughed, knowing the excess stress of the day was likely making him sound unhinged, but unable to stop. Peter joined in too, and they both sat there for a while longer, hands pressed on either side of the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm a big ho for love and affection <3 
> 
> Thanks to jananaNoir for the beta!


	9. Logos - Training - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short one, but I've got another chapter almost done (no promises though lol)

Peter left Beck after a while, and he slumped back against the wall once he was finally alone. 

_ Radiation. Shit. _

Despite his assurances to Peter, Quentin wasn’t sure at all about his ability to withstand _ any _amounts of radiation, and he really didn’t want to know what it was like to die slowly of radiation poisoning.

He sat for a long time, thinking over everything he’d done in his short life. If he really was dying, would he have any regrets? Anything not done?

He was snapped out of his thoughts of winning a Nobel prize by the sound of approaching footsteps, and he shook himself, steadying himself in case it was Peter. If it was Peter, he needed to be strong, to make sure Peter wasn’t worrying over him.

When the footsteps came around the corner and into view, Quentin let himself slump back against the wall, the stress of the day creeping onto his face once more.

“You look like shit.” Tony’s voice was too loud for the quiet hallway, but his pitch had more or less returned to normal.

Quentin lifted one hand to flip him off and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well you try possibly dying of radiation poisoning, let’s see how you handle it.” Tony opened his mouth to reply with something flippant and then closed it again, pausing to think. Quentin watched him, wary, and waited for the other man to work through what was going on in his head.

“I did. Well, not _ did _ did, but I was dying of palladium poisoning for a while. It sucked.” Tony didn’t pause to let Quentin absorb that information before he continued on. “And I did a lot of stupid things, some really shitty things, to a lot of people I care about, and I want to make sure you don’t do that. Namely, to Peter; I don’t care about any of your other loved ones nearly as much.” He paused and looked Quentin in the eye, measuring him. “You don’t have any other loved ones that you can push all the stupid self-destructive shit onto, do you?” Quentin shook his head, and Tony sighed noisily.

Quentin’s voice was steadier than he hoped for when he responded. “I’m not – I’m not going to do anything self-destructive. Well, not until we know for sure what’s going to happen.” Tony took that in with a measured look, and gave Quentin another once-over. “Tony – I need to ask you something.” Tony didn’t respond verbally, but made a ‘go ahead’ gesture with his hands, signaling for him to ask. “I – I don’t want to die. I’d _ really _love to not die.” Tony nodded, listening. “But if it’s – but if I’m going to die either way, I don’t – I don’t want Peter to have to deal with that. I don’t want him seeing me dying slowly.”

Tony breathed out in a sharp hiss, his teeth clenched. “Yeah, yeah, I can keep him away from you if you want. He’ll hate you for it though. Can you live with – are you okay with that?” Quentin flinched at the blunt description and the aborted phrase, and ground his teeth together at the thought of Peter hating him for however long he outlived him. 

“Yes, but that wasn’t exactly what I was going to ask you.” Tony quirked a brow, waiting. “I – uh, I don’t want to die slowly.” Tony’s brows rose as he realized what Quentin meant. “And – I know, it’s a lot to ask, Tony, and I wouldn’t – you know I can’t ask Peter, he could _ never- _” Quentin broke off, the thought too much. “Tony. I’m asking you as – maybe not as a friend, but someone I respect. Please, if I’m going to die anyway, just let me have some dignity.”

Tony nodded, not agreeing but just mulling it over. “You want me to kill you.” Quentin flinched, and nodded. “And you want, what? Should I tell Peter you asked me to do it? Or maybe, better yet, I’ll just tell him nothing. Just let him come to his own conclusions about you, about what you asked me for?” Tony ignored Quentin’s flinches as he talked and steamrolled over his attempts to butt into the train of thought. “What if I make him watch? He could do it, I mean, he’s strong enough, and let’s face it, he's probably more resistant to radiation than you or me.”

Quentin slapped his palms on the ground, shooting to his feet to face Tony with only the thick glass between them. “No! You do _ not _ get to bring him into this!” Tony almost took a step back, but he caught himself at the last second. Quentin didn’t notice, however, he was too focused on making sure Tony knew he was serious. “Tony, you can’t, he’s – he’s too _ innocent_, you can’t make him deal with this. I’d rather I don’t die, but I’m sure as hell not going to make it any harder for him.” Tony leveled a look at him, and Quentin realized he was panting like he ran a half mile.

Quentin looked Tony in the eyes, searching his face for something. He wasn’t sure what he needed to see, and Tony turned away before he could figure it out. “You’re serious about that?” Tony’s question was unexpected, and Quentin blinked, confused.

“About what?” He couldn’t see Tony’s face, and he reached out, slapping the glass in frustration when Tony didn’t answer right away. “Tony, what is it? Yes, I’m serious about not hurting Peter, he’s – he’s _ everything_.” Quentin’s voice broke on the last word and he sucked in a breath, suddenly closer to falling apart than he had been a moment before. “I want him to – I don’t want it to break him, if I die. He deserves better than me, and I don’t want to keep him from moving on, if it comes to that.” Tony nodded, still facing away from Quentin.

“Good.” His voice sounded wet, but when he turned back to face Quentin, his eyes looked dry. Quentin wasn’t sure if it was because of the thick and hazy glass separating them, but he couldn’t tell if Tony was really affected or not. “And I’ll do what you asked, if it comes down to it.” He paused, thinking over his words. “But I’m _ Iron Man_, and we are currently in a building of _ superheroes _ who also know some wizards and a god or two. You’re not dying if we haven’t exhausted every single alternative first, and you can be sure we have enough of them to try.” Quentin nodded, happy to concede the point.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. Thank you, Tony. For everything. I know you’re only doing it for Peter, but I appreciate it all the same.” Tony looked him over and gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“It’s not just for him, although I will admit he’s my main focus. You’re also a Stark employee, and I would hate to be the one at fault for you dying.” Tony’s smile was thin and strained, and Quentin looked him over, taking in the tense lines of his body as he spoke.

“You’re – You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” Quentin’s voice was too loud, and he stopped and started before getting the words out. “Y-You really do feel guilty; that’s why you’re here.” Tony looked away, and that was all the answer Quentin needed. “God, Tony, it’s not your fault, and it’s not Peter’s fault either. Neither of you picked up that stuff, or forced me to drop it on myself.” Tony frowned, brow furrowed, and refused to meet Quentin’s eyes. “I’m not blaming you, Tony. If I die, I die, and it’s _ not _ your fault.” Tony waved a hand, turning away from Quentin so he couldn’t see the other man’s face.

“Point taken, Godzilla. Now let’s just focus on getting you back to normal, or as normal as anyone ever is around here.” Quentin nodded, letting Tony diffuse the tenser, more emotional atmosphere. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let me know what I can do to help, if anything – I’m not an expert on radiation, but I know some stuff that might be relevant.” Tony nodded, still facing away from Quentin, and started walking away as he responded. 

“Got it, I’ll have my people call your people, let you know what we need.” His tone was flippant, but Quentin knew better than to take him at face value. He didn’t turn around as he walked away and Quentin was certain it was because Tony didn’t want him to see whatever emotion he couldn’t completely mask. 

Quentin leaned back against his bench, still deep in thought. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to fix himself - he didn’t know anything that was immediately useful, but he ran through everything he could think of in his head, trying to puzzle out an answer, any answer. After a while, he fell into an uneasy sleep, unsure what the next day would bring.


	10. Logos - Training - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this nearly ready for too long, so I'm sorry for forgetting - thanks for bearing with me <3

When Quentin woke up, it was to Peter standing outside the makeshift cell holding a glass of water. He hadn't slept well either, Quentin could see, there were dark rings under his eyes and his face was tense, his grip on the cup too tight. 

"I brought you some water, and the anti-radiation pills." Peter held the cup out, gesturing, and a little spilled over the side with the motion. "I'm not - I know I have to use the stupid airlock, but can - can I hug you?" 

Quentin's heart broke at the question, and his hands twitched with the urge to throw them around Peter. "You know I can't do that. If I'm still radioactive, I can't afford to hurt you, Peter." Peter's face fell even more, and he nodded. 

"Yeah, I was kind of figuring you would say that. I know Tony is being - but he's always like that, and you're - you're not. Sometimes. But I get it." Quentin stood, pressing his hands to the glass in front of Peter. 

"Believe me Peter, there's nothing I'd rather do than hug you right now. But I'm - I'm still _ dangerous _to be around right now, and I can't - I can't be worrying about hurting you. Not on top of everything else." Peter acknowledged the words with a nod but didn't say anything else as he opened the outer door to the airlock. It was a small chamber that could be flushed with anti-radiation chemicals after Quentin opened the door on his side, and they’d determined that he wasn’t radioactive enough to be dangerous beyond those safety measures. 

Peter dropped the cup onto the ground, along with a small plate containing a pastry and a handful of large looking pills. He let the door slam closed behind him, and Quentin closed his eyes, waiting for the requisite ten seconds to ensure the door had a firm seal before he opened the door on his side. 

After he retrieved the sustenance, he retreated into his cell, pulling his door tightly shut and hearing the click that meant he'd triggered the decontamination procedures. When he looked up, Peter stood on the other side of the glass, looking at him. 

"Peter?" Quentin frowned at him, unsure why he was still hovering outside the glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. I can - I'll go." Peter turned away from him, scrubbing a hand through his hair, and Quentin leaned against the glass separating them. 

"Peter, wait." Peter stopped, but didn't turn around. "I'm - I'm sorry. For this. For everything. You shouldn't have to go through this alone, and I'm sorry that I can't be there for you." Peter still didn't turn, but his hands clenched into fists. "And - and I was wondering if you would mind sitting with me while I eat?" Quentin tried to make his voice light, holding up the plate with a gesture Peter couldn't see. "I need someone to bounce ideas off of about what my powers will be, and what my superhero name should be." 

Peter finally turned around at that, smiling, but it was a fragile smile. "Well, I mean, obviously you can't be trusted to think up a name by yourself;, you still go by _ Quentin _." Quentin reared back, faking offense. 

"You don't like my name? Peter, how could you?" Peter snickered and it was a real laugh –, muted but real. "But seriously, what do you think I'll be able to do? Fly? Shoot lasers out of my eyes? Maybe I'll get bitten by a radioactive spider-man and I'll develop spider-man-man powers." He warmed at Peter's answering smile, and gave a small one of his own to the boy. 

"You wish. You could only hope you have my powers." Peter grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Quentin, giving him a look. "Have we tried the upside-down kiss yet? The one from those movies like ten years ago?" Quentin shook his head, grinning as well. 

"That'll be one for the bucket list, for sure." Quentin sat down on his bench, leaning back to survey Peter from the position. "Speaking of, you haven't given me an answer yet, Peter, on that thing I asked you about the other day." Peter flushed and looked down, not answering immediately. 

After a few moments he found his voice, his eyes darting up to find Quentin's. "I - I don't know." He shuffled his feet, casting another glance up towards the cameras in the ceiling where he knew JARVIS was watching. "I just - it's Tony, you know? He'd - he'd _ know _if I was doing something like that in his building." Quentin shook his head, throwing a fond smile at Peter. 

"He's not omnipresent, Peter, and he sure as hell doesn't _want_ to know what we get up to any more than we want him to. If you ask JARVIS to turn off the cameras, Tony wouldn't know." Peter still shuffled nervously, and Quentin sighed. "Come on _ Baby Boy_, are you telling me you don't want to?" 

Peter bit his lip at the nickname, and Quentin grinned. _ That is a nickname worth keeping. _"No I-I want to, I do, I just - don't know." 

"Well, you don't have to give me an answer right now, we've got all the time in the world to try it, Baby Boy." Peter's slight shiver at the name only reinforced Quentin's determination to use it more often. "And how about that, huh? What if you just changed your superhero name to Baby Boy? That way I can call out during battles and make sure you're okay." Quentin knew his grin had turned to shit-eating, and Peter mock glared at him. 

"Hmm, I don't know, that would mean you'd have to start going by a matching name.” Peter smirked at him. “Maybe 'Old Man'?" Quentin gasped in mock horror. 

"You're calling me an old man? No, that won't do, not at _ all _." His grin turned predatory and he spread his legs wider on the hard bench, running a hand up his thigh. "Hmm, maybe I would like you calling me Daddy though;, you know, if you were in trouble.” His eyes flicked up to find Peter’s, daring him to deny that he liked it, and Peter looked away. “'Help me, Daddy, save me, Daddy,' things like that." Peter flushed, but didn't argue with him. He wriggled where he sat on the ground in front of Quentin's cell, not looking him in the eye. 

"I don't - that's _ not _ appropriate, Quentin. You can't - you can't _ tease _me like that when you're in there and I'm - and I'm out here." Peter finished with a frown, finally looking up at Quentin, petulant. "I want t-to do things, and talk about things with you but I - not now, okay? Not while I can't touch you." Quentin's smile fell away and he nodded, acquiescing to Peter's request. 

"I'm sorry Peter, I can tone it down. But there's gonna be retribution once I'm out of here, you know, I'm not letting you out of bed for a _ week _." Peter shivered at the threat and nodded minutely. 

"Yeah, that's - that’s okay." There was a subtle heat in his voice, and it made Quentin want him all the more. "Now really, I gotta know. Do you feel any different? Think you'll get cool powers? When I got mine it was like, I felt sick for half a day and then when I woke up I was fine but better than fine, I could just do more." His subject change was forced, but Quentin let it go easily. 

"I pretty much feel the same as ever. Nothing yet. But if it's not like yours, and considering the fact that we still don't know what that stuff _ was, _there's no reason to expect it will be like what you went through., I might not feel any changes." Peter nodded, finally looking at him not with anguish or lust, just assessing. 

"Well, maybe you should try to do something. Like, see if you didn't develop powers already, like mind control where you just have to think really hard and someone will do your bidding." Quentin snorted. 

"Did you really just use the word 'bidding' in a sentence non-ironically?" Peter rolled his eyes and waved away Quentin's question. "Okay okay, so I should try to see if I can what - control you with my mind?" It was Quentin's turn to waggle his eyebrows at Peter, and Peter rolled his eyes again. 

Quentin sighed and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus. He opened them and focused his mind on Peter, on controlling him. He channeled all of his focus on making Peter lift his hand, and after a few seconds, Peter looked up at him curiously. 

"Are you, uh, are you trying right now?" Peter’s voice was less steady, and Quentin gave up, flopping back against the wall. 

"I was, and it did exactly zilch. I don't think I'm getting mind control powers, Peter." Peter shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. 

"Well, maybe you'll get something else cool. You should try to fly!" Quentin rolled his eyes. 

"I'm not - I appreciate that you think I'd get something as cool as flying, but I think I would know if I could fly. It feels like something you'd notice." Peter shrugged and kept looking at him with those big brown eyes. Quentin stood with a huff, pointing at Peter. "Okay, but you better not laugh when this goes exactly nowhere." Peter nodded easily, wrapping his arms around his knees to watch. 

Quentin spread his feet a little, centering himself and getting a solid base so he wouldn't fall over. He closed his eyes, trying to really feel the energy it would take to fly inside himself. Imagining a deep well of some cosmic power inside of himself, he siphoned off a small amount and directed it downward, like he had rockets strapped to his feet. He focused on that picture, his entire mind dedicated to pushing down for long moments. 

After a long moment of silence, Quentin still felt his feet solidly connected to the ground and he sighed, relaxing and opening his eyes. He met Peter’s eyes and had a brief moment of confusion - he’d remembered Peter being about a foot higher in his field of view than he was, and when he looked down at himself, he realized his feet were still firmly planted in what he’d assumed was the ground, but was actually about half a foot of air between him and the cold cement ground. 

As soon as he realized, he fell back onto the floor, landing heavily and wincing at the protests his knees put up. Before he could blink, Peter was on his feet, a wild grin on his face as he pressed as close to Quentin as he could, which was not very since there was still a thick sheet of glass between them. “Did you - I mean, I know you saw that, but did you see that!” Peter’s voice was loud, and he jumped up and down, banging his hands against the glass for emphasis. “You’re - you can fly! Quentin, you’re going to be alright!” 

Quentin grinned at him, even if he didn’t share Peter’s diagnosis that he was definitely going to be fine. “Did you see that? I was - I was _ hovering_!” He felt a little giddy, himself, after the rollercoaster of the past few days, and any sign at all that he might be channeling the radiation into something that wouldn’t kill him was a welcome one. 

As they were still jumping and yelling, Bruce Banner and Dr. Strange came around the corner at a run. They slowed to a halt as they took in the scene before them, and Peter and Quentin both halted in their celebrations, looking to the scientists with concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Jani for the beta! <33333


	11. Logos - Training - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating things I haven't touched in months? Me? Who ever would have thought it.....

Banner was the first to speak, haltingly in the sudden (and awkward) silence. “We – uh, we saw some readings that we were – uh, concerned about – thought something might have happened.” He wasn’t sure where to look and his eyes darted from Peter to Quentin to the floor before going back to Peter. 

Quentin wished he could push Peter behind him as Strange oogled him with a curious fascination. “We were celebrating; I figured out I can – well, hover, at least, if not fly exactly.” He frowned, already wanting to experiment with the limits of his powers. 

Banner nodded, looking intrigued despite himself. “And you were - you were doing this just now?” Quentin nodded. “Hmm, interesting. We saw – we were analyzing the radiation levels you’ve been venting over the past couple days, to see if there were any trends, but then the levels dropped so fast in the last five minutes that we were worried about a containment leak.” Quentin nodded in understanding – if the radiation inside his cell was released into the building at large, it would be a disaster. 

“No containment leak, as far as I know.” He looked around the small containment area he was stuck in. “How would we know if there was one? Would there be alarms?” Bruce nodded, still looking over at him in mild concern. 

“Y-Yeah, there are alarms set up, but they could fail, and we didn’t have access to the cameras for some reason.” He frowned. “Actually, JARVIS, why couldn’t we see the cameras? We didn’t ask.” There was a pause as they all looked towards the ceiling for the answer. 

“The cameras were turned off with a request from Mr. Beck.” Quentin’s eyes widened, and he looked from Peter back to the scientists in confusion. 

“I didn’t – I was talking about asking him to turn them off, but I didn’t actually ask, just mentioned it as a possibility. I didn’t think I had the authority.” Peter was looking back at him, confused as well, but he was saved from having to answer when JARVIS chimed in again. 

“You have the same access as Mr. Parker. Tony updated your clearances when you started your relationship.” Quentin looked back at Peter in surprise, not sure how to feel about that information. 

Peter spoke first, breaking the awkward silence. “Uh, JARVIS, he has  _ all _ the same clearances as I do?” 

“He does, that is correct. Your clearance for the tower is designated by the ‘spider-son’ protocol. I can list out all of your individual permissions if you like.” Peter shook his head, hair flying. “Mr. Beck is designated as a spouse of yours via the ‘spider-son-in-law’ protocols, and as such, has the same permissions as you.” Quentin felt his cheeks heating up, and when he looked back towards Strange and Banner, they were both clearly trying to keep from smiling. 

“Well, that at least answers why you could turn the cameras off.” Banner’s voice carried a hint of a smile, but he managed to keep it off his face. “Peter has more access to the tower than pretty much anyone else here, except Tony himself.” 

It was Peter’s turn to blush, and he looked from Banner to Quentin and back again. “I don’t – he didn’t really do that much, it’s not – I’m not like, I can’t go everywhere or anything, there are places that I’m not allowed a-and things I can’t do.” His protests were stammered, and Quentin couldn’t help but smile at his awkward confusion about how much Tony trusted him. 

“Actually, Mr. Parker, you have the most access to the tower of everyone currently possessing a security clearance, excepting Tony himself. If he is somehow incapacitated, you would be the next in line to take full command of the EDITH systems.” Peter shook his head at that, eyes wide. 

“I-I didn’t know that, uh, thanks for letting me know, JARVIS.” He scuffed his shoe against the ground, and then looked back up to Quentin’s face. “Hey, wait, we got really off track! Quentin, you can fly!” Quentin broke out into a grin, having momentarily forgotten, and Peter smiled back at him. 

“Yeah, I guess I can.” He looked over to Banner and Strange, who were still hovering uncomfortably. “So you saw the radiation readings go down by a lot? Maybe if I’m using whatever it is that I got, I won’t be radioactive anymore.” Banner looked him over, assessing. 

“Yeah, that’s possible, although I don’t want to say that for certain. If you were using the radiation somehow, I feel like you would still be giving it off, but I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “We haven’t seen readings like this, so I have no idea what would be normal or not.” 

Quentin nodded at him, thinking. “But we should still look into it, right?” Bruce nodded. “Setting aside the fact that flying is  _ awesome _ and I want to get better at it, doing some empirical testing to see what’s happening when I use my, uh,  _ powers _ ,” he grinned again, despite himself, “would probably be a good idea. Where’s the stuff that’s monitoring the radiation levels in here? Would we be able to set it up so I can see in real time what effects I’m having?” 

He looked to Banner and Strange again, and they exchanged looks before nodding at him. “Yeah, we could probably do that.” Banner frowned. “I would just want to make sure you had someone with you when you’re doing the testing, in case anything goes wrong.” He looked at Peter, and Quentin broke in before Peter could answer the unspoken question. 

“No, not Peter.” Peter whipped around to face Quentin, and he held up a hand to stop the protests. “Not because I don’t trust you, or I think you’d want to mess with the data in order to get me out of here faster or anything.” Quentin smiled at him, and Peter frowned, willing to hear him out. “It’s because I wouldn’t want to put New York at risk if anything went wrong – whoever is in here with me would still have to be in full radiation gear, and that stuff takes forever to take on and off. If you were needed as a hero, it might be too much time for you to get battle ready.” 

Peter pouted at him, biting his lip and thinking over Quentin’s words. Quentin meant it, but he also  _ was _ a little worried about Peter potentially messing with the data, since he wanted to see his boyfriend so badly. Peter might think he was radiation proof, but Quentin knew better than to want to test it. 

Peter spoke after a long moment. “Fine, that’s - that’s fine, I guess. But I want to be here while you’re setting up the equipment, and while you’re testing your powers.” He bit his lip, looking at Quentin steadily. “Plus, you’re going to need my help coming up with a name, after all.” 

Quentin cracked a smile as he felt some of the sheer exhaustion and stress that sat on his shoulders since the lab accident fade away, realizing for the first time that maybe hope wasn’t entirely lost after all. He pushed a hand against the glass, and Peter did the same on the other side. 

A cough finally brought them out of their reverie towards each other, and both men looked back at where Strange and Banner stood somewhat awkwardly at the other end of the corridor. 

“Uh, yeah, so. We can – I’ll grab some techs, if you want, we can get everything set up by tonight probably.” Bruce looked uncomfortable at Peter and Quentin’s intimacy, but he braved his awkwardness in order to step closer to them, looking at Quentin’s cell critically. “It might be a little longer, since we’re gonna have to be in anti-radiation suits, but we’ve got plenty of those.” 

He nodded to Quentin, who nodded back, eager to start. Peter seemed comfortable to let them figure out the logistics, and sat back against the wall as he listened to Bruce describe the setup they had been monitoring him from. Quentin only had a few questions about the logistics, and then Bruce and Stephen Strange were gone, heading back to their labs in order to round up the required techs. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, please consider buying me a coffee to let me know! :) https://ko-fi.com/sweetesthoney


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